


Tantrums

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [11]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Humor, No Plot/Plotless, Toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no words to describe an Alexandra Poole tantrum. Part of Harry Verse, set between “Primary Caregiver” and “The Story”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tantrums

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Harry verse fic, in this story Alex is now 2 and a half. Big thanks to my friend Rhi who let me utilise her niece’s antics for this story!

Camille, unlike her husband, had considerable babysitting experience and was thus familiar with the demands of small children when it came to entertainment. This included the absolute delight they took in repeating things over and over again. And then some more. When a toddler finds a game they like they are perfectly happy to keep playing it for the rest of the day. It took a certain amount of skill to get them interested in something else, and it was a skill that required development over time.

Given the level of impatience Richard displayed in day to day life, Camille had been a bit worried about how he would cope when Harry became a toddler. But he displayed remarkable patience in dealing with the boy – and would repeat games, stories and nursery rhymes until Harry got bored of them, rather than the other way around. One memorable afternoon he read Harry the same story 14 times – something Camille didn’t think she would have been able to manage. She’d made an effort to praise him for it afterwards.

“Well studies have shown that toddlers who hear the same story multiple times learn more words that those that hear different stories,” he told her matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t want to postpone his development just because I am bored of the story!” It was typical Richard to be able to put up with something other parents struggled with because science had given him a reason to do so.

Of course Harry had been a reasonably well behaved toddler. Yes, there had been some tantrums – a few they still couldn’t talk about because it brought on tensions. One of the most infamous was when Harry had crawled into a tiny space behind some shelves at a supermarket and declared he was never, ever, ever coming out. And he made this declaration at the top of his voice in-between some screaming sobs. And the reason for this tantrum of doom: Harry had wanted to buy peach toilet roll to match the bathroom, and Richard hadn’t wanted to pay the extra money so had told him no. Camille had plans to tell that story at her son’s wedding one day.

But Baby 2 had proved to be a very different kettle of fish.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexandra had learnt to speak very quickly. And she _liked_ talking – the only problem was she sometimes didn’t seem to make any sense. Especially with her tendency to mix up French and English. For a fortnight, Richard and Camille had to put up with some interesting, and to a certain degree frustrating, behaviour from their daughter.

One morning Alex toddled over to Richard with the ever patient Mrs Poofs gathered up in her arms. The poor cat usually ended up being half dragged across the floor, and neither of them understood why she put up with it but they were glad she did. She smiled sweetly up at Richard before asking, “Why do I have Poofs?”

“Well,” Richard began, putting down the paper and preparing himself for an explanation. “Mummy and Daddy thought it would be nice for you and Harry to have a pet so we got you Mrs Poofs.”

Alexandra stared at him blankly. She repeated, “Why do I have Poofs?”

Richard assumed Alex just hadn’t understood his first explanation, so he tried again, “Mrs Poofs needed a new home so we took her in, we thought you and Harry would like her.”

Alex was frowning now, her little forehead creased up. Richard, knowing the warning signs, shot a nervous glance at Camille – but she was as clueless as him. “ _Why_ do I have Poofs?” She asked, very firmly, raising the cat off the ground again.

“Um,” Richard said, trying to think of another way to phrase it. Then he decided that perhaps he was misinterpreting the question, “Because you picked her up?”

She gave a little huff of annoyance – a habit Richard claimed was inherited from Camille – and half shouted, “WHY DO I HAVE POOFS?”

“Because she’s your cat,” Richard said, looking desperately to Camille for help.

“Do you want us to take the cat, darling?” Camille asked, reaching down to pet Mrs Poofs. Her question did not have the calming effect she was hoping for – instead Alex reacted rather violently.

“NO!” She screamed, tears beginning to stream down her face. “WHY DO I HAVE POOFS? WHY DO I HAVE POOFS?” The cat, unable to put up with the high pitch now being produced by the toddler, scarpered. This caused Alex to cry harder. Unable to think of anything else Camille gathered Alex up and after twenty minutes of stroking her back and gentle murmurings her daughter returned to her normal cheerful self.

 

* * *

 

 

If only that was the only example. The same thing happened, albeit with different questions, multiple times over the next couple of weeks. There was a tantrum induced by their inability to find an answer to her question of ‘what is this for?’ in relation to her toy tractor, another in the park when she had picked a daisy and asked ‘whose flower is this?’ and a particular memorable one in the middle of _La Kaz_ when Richard, Camille and Catherine failed to successfully answer the question, ‘Why am I wearing this dress?’.

One day Richard stayed home with his little girl when Camille went to the hairdressers with Harry – an activity Harry insisted on doing with Camille because he didn’t think Richard paid close enough attention to the hairdresser and thus might allow him to cut off all of his hair. Richard had tried to explain multiple times this would not occur but for some reason Harry was convinced it would. Richard didn’t mind having the odd bit of bonding time with Baby 2.

Alex had gotten hold of one of Camille’s handbags and was enjoying filling it with various toys and other bits of pieces. Richard would suggest things she might want to bring with her, but Alex rejected most of his ideas – she was very firm that she bring the ace of spades both Jokers and the three of clubs from a set of playing cards, but didn’t see why she might want some pennies. Richard supposed he wasn’t being imaginative enough – he often worried this was the case when he played with the kids.

“Why do I have this bag?” She asked, indicating it with one hand.

Richard had read somewhere that the Father is very important to speech development in children, in particular increasing the vocabulary, due to the male tendency to not use ‘baby talk’ with their children. As a consequence he always made a conscious effort to speak to both his children using clear and simple language but didn’t try to avoid using certain words.

“You selected it from your Mother’s many, many bags. Do you like that one?” It was gold, a little gaudy for Richard’s tastes. Not that he spent that much time thinking about women’s handbags, except when he was buying one with a ridiculous price tag as a present for Camille.

Alex shook her head at him, “Why do I have this bag?” The repetition of the question set off an alarm bell in Richard’s head. He knew exactly what was coming.

“Because you are playing with it,” he offered tentatively as an answer. It wasn’t the one she wanted.

“Why do I have _this_ bag?” She repeated, pointing at the object in question again. He hesitated and she said once more, “Why do I have this bag?”

“To carry your stuff to the shop in?” He tried again. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

“WHY DO I HAVE THIS BAG?” She started shouting. “WHY DO I HAVE THIS BAG?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” He eventually ended up shouting back, which was not helpful in the slightest.

Thus, when Camille returned she witnessed the scene of her husband being repeated hit around the legs with one of her handbags whilst her daughter wept openly and repeatedly asked, “Why do I have this bag?”

Harry gave his sister a single disdainful look before running off to hide in his room. “What on earth is going on?” Camille asked.

Richard’s head was currently buried in his hands, and stayed there as he replied, “I don’t know. She seems to be having some sort of existential crisis concerning why she is playing with your handbag! Nothing has worked!”

Upon hearing her Mother’s voice Alex headed in Camille direction, “Why do I have this bag?” She asked Camille, a desperate note of hope in her voice.

“Darling we don’t know what you want? Why do you have the bag?”

The crying stopped instantly. “To go shopping!” Alex cried happily. Richard and Camille looked at each other as realisation dawned. “Why do I have the cards?” She asked, pulling the playing cards from the depths of the bag.

“I don’t know, why do you have the playing cards?” Camille tried, hoping she had stumbled upon the solution to her tantrums. 

“To pay for the shopping!” She informed them, before plonking herself down to continue to sort through the contents of her bag.

Richard decided to ignore the fact that Baby 2 thought that playing cards could be used to pay for goods as opposed to the reality of credit or debit cards. Instead he turned to Camille and said, “Are you telling me all she has wanted is for us to repeat the question back so _she_ could answer it?”

“It seems so,” Camille said, smiling down at the happy little girl now playing at her feet.

He threw both arms up in the air, “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“I don’t know, why didn’t we think of that?” She said with a small smile. Richard wasn’t quite ready to see the funny side yet though, and instead narrowed his eyes at her. Perhaps he’d be okay with it by the same Alex got married.

**Author's Note:**

> I am off on holiday for 2 weeks and won’t be posting!


End file.
